


as if all of a sudden, i'm too delicate

by larryhaylik



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2015-2016 ISU Grand Prix of Figure Skating, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Hand Jobs, Kinda, M/M, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, potential underage - read notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22817086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryhaylik/pseuds/larryhaylik
Summary: "I want that."It spills out of his mouth before he can clamp it shut and the ensuing silence is so stiff Shoma could touch it if he tried. He won't, though. His limbs are not responding."You want Javi?" Yuzuru asks, confused. "You barely talk to him."Shoma has to reach deep into the reserves of his courage to be able to look at Yuzuru, but the moment he does, Yuzuru seems to understand. His eyes widen and for some reason, he joins Shoma in the blush club. The pink is barely visible under the streetlamps, but it makes Shoma's breath hitch. He never gets to see Yuzuru blush - flush, yes, at every training, every competition - butblush, because he's embarrassed? It's a first.In short, Shoma's got claws, he just doesn't know it yet.
Relationships: Yuzuru Hanyu/Shoma Uno
Comments: 13
Kudos: 48





	as if all of a sudden, i'm too delicate

**Author's Note:**

> Was this necessary? No. But did I enjoy writing it? Absolutely.
> 
> Post-2015 GPF in Barcelona. If you're looking for a love story, this isn't it; more of a one-night stand, really, except with friendship.
> 
>  **Potential underage tag** : Shoma is a few days shy of 18 here. He's perfectly legal from both Spanish and Japanese viewpoints, but if you don't like it, don't read.
> 
> Other than that, enjoy!

It's exhilarating. Sure, it's only bronze, but he's standing on the podium nevertheless, his first big medal in the senior category, and the lights are simultaneously too bright and not bright enough. The lowest of the three steps is too bright and not bright enough. 

He's glad to be where he is, of course he is, but at the same time it accentuates just how much more there is to strive for. He's only 16.16 points behind the second place. A jump or two, or maybe a few spins with a higher GOE could get him right where Javier Fernandez is standing, almost as tall as Yuzuru even when a step lower. And Yuzuru seems tall enough to Shoma anyway, but today the distance between them seems ten times as long. Today, Yuzuru represents something simply untouchable - three world records in one competition - how could he ever measure with that? 

And yet he wants to, desperately wants to, wants it like he's never wanted anything before, wants to stand up there, for once looking down at people instead of the other way around. Wants to look to his right and see the figure skating legend of Japan, to look to his left and find another globally renown skater, and smile to himself, his skin soaking in the spotlight instead of sweat. It's only 16.16 points to the second place, which is doable, and 53.64 to the first, which is crazy.

The light is reflecting off the thousand sequins and rhinestones sewn into Yuzuru's costume as he sings along to the national anthem, and Shoma doesn't know what to do with himself. 

The excitement and adrenaline are still coursing through Shoma's veins four hours later, the difference is, however, that it no longer feels good. He has been praying for some relief for a good hour now, but calmness seems to be as slippery as melting ice and he turns again and again and again between the silky smooth hotel duvets until it all becomes too much, and he throws the covers aside.

There are so many threads spinning through his head. Gripping his hair, He stares, unseeing, at the dark carpet around his feet. He's thrilled to be third, but disappointed, he wants to be better, but it's exhausting, he needs to _do_ something now, especially if that something is _sleep_ , and the glittery aura of Yuzuru's success is shining over his every thought even as the jealousy throws deep jagged shadows. Admiration flows among everything, twined with determination. 

It's too much.

He has never particularly cared for the outside, but he pulls on his jacket and shoes, grabs the keys and opens the door as quietly as he can anyway. It's not like he needs to be quiet, per se. It's nearing three in the morning and all respectable people have been sleeping the night away for at least a couple of hours. Still, he cringes when the elevator dings.

It's cold. He finds it funny, in a distant kind of way, that even after the years and years he has spent close to the ice, low temperatures still get to him out of the arena. The crisp air feels like a slap in the face, and while that instantly makes him even more awake, it also feels so much better than the staleness of his room. 

He has no idea which way he's going, but the number of people he passes is increasing, so it must be towards the city centre. For such a late night in December, Barcelona is surprisingly lively, and the further he walks, the more noise he encounters. There are girls stumbling and laughing, boys trailing after them, picking up the discarded heeled shoes, and it's such a mundane yet unusual thing to see that, despite the tension crawling in his muscles, it makes him laugh out loud.

"Shoma?"

He stops in his tracks and looks around, but there's nobody to see.

"Over here."

Curiously, Shoma peers over the railing and there it is. Yuzuru is huddled in his jacket, scarf and hat on the lower stone sidewalk, sitting just a few feet from the white sand.

"What are you doing down there?" he asks. Yuzuru is looking up at him, head craned backwards. It kind of looks the way Shoma imagined it earlier, and it makes his insides twist.

"What are you doing up there?" Yuzuru retorts, grinning. "Come sit."

He does, mostly because once Yuzuru is done talking, he turns his gaze back to the sea, and Shoma wants to have him looking up again. He walks briskly to the nearest slope, towering over Yuzuru in no time. 

"Sit," Yuzuru says again, knees pulled up to his chest. It makes him look incredibly small, and even though Shoma knows Yuzuru could probably plop him over his shoulder and walk away, it still does something odd to Shoma's heartbeat.

"I'd rather stay up here. It's got to be cold down there."

Yuzuru sighs and before Shoma has any chance to react, he hooks his hand behind Shoma's knee and tugs. It sends him tumbling on his ass, cheeks burning against the cold air. 

"What brings you out?" Yuzuru asks casually. The satisfied smirk makes Shoma want to kick him.

"Couldn't sleep," he mumbles instead. 

Although it feels better to be out here, with endless space around him, his skin still seems to be two sizes too small for him. A surge of frustration floods his veins and he digs his nails into his thigh to keep himself from wringing his hands in despair.

Yuzuru hums, keeps watching the horizon as if expecting a party cruise to bounce over it at any moment.

"Why are you?" Shoma asks through the tightness of his throat.

"Just needed to not think for a while," Yuzuru says slowly. "I would have gone to the rink, but they closed hours ago, so the coldness here will have to do."

"You went outside because it's cold?" Shoma wonders and his voice sounds off even to himself. Yuzuru turns.

"Don't do that," he says, reaching over to pry Shoma's stiff fingers off his leg. His skin is warm despite the fact he's been out here for longer than Shoma has, and it feels soft. Yuzuru has always taken better care of his skin than Shoma has. Maybe that's what makes him so good. He never forgets the little things.

"Sorry," he says, taking his hands back and plunging them into his pockets. It's been such an odd day.

"You don't need to apologise." Yuzuru frowns. "Are you okay?"

Shoma contemplates this for a moment. He's not, but he is. It's not like he's never experienced this snowstorm of conflicting impressions and emotions. It's just that he'd like it to pass already.

"Mostly," he answers instead. He can feel Yuzuru's eyes on him, but he doesn't turn to meet them. The question they carry translates clearly. "It's just a lot."

"Oh." It's a small sound, but it holds enough understanding that Shoma knows he was right to be honest. "It happens to me too, sometimes. Overwhelming."

"What do you do, then?"

"I skate it out, usually. Go for a walk." Yuzuru makes a broad gesture, and Shoma lets his eyes trail over the quaint scene, waves lapping gently at the sand. 

"And if that doesn't work?"

"I'd go to Javi." 

Shoma looks at Yuzuru. The man is smiling innocently, but they have known each other for a while now, therefore Shoma is not fooled. The implication creeps up on him one realisation at a time, and this time, it's him who utters a soft, "Oh."

It's quiet for a moment, at least as far as anyone could hear. In Shoma's head, though, the words and thoughts that screeched to a halt are starting to move again, tangling in unprecedented ways. And it's not even his fault, he doesn't think. Yuzuru brought it up and sometimes his skating is borderline indecent; there's so much in Shoma's mind, so many memories. He didn't even realise, but now they're all rushing up, rising along with his heartbeat, Parisienne Walkways and the pinks of Notre Dame and the insane Biellmanns and teasing Ina Bauers, and when he counts up all that strength, elegance, flexibility, muscle control, and if he considers that it would get the tension out-

"I want that."

It spills out of his mouth before he can clamp it shut and the ensuing silence is so stiff Shoma could touch it if he tried. He won't, though. His limbs are not responding.

"You want Javi?" Yuzuru asks, confused. "You barely talk to him."

Shoma has to reach deep into the reserves of his courage to be able to look at Yuzuru, but the moment he does, Yuzuru seems to understand. His eyes widen and for some reason, he joins Shoma in the blush club. The pink is barely visible under the streetlamps, but it makes Shoma's breath hitch. He never gets to see Yuzuru blush - flush, yes, at every training, every competition - but _blush_ , because he's embarrassed? It's a first.

"I- like you," Yuzuru says carefully. "But there's nothing- more to it."

"No, I know," Shoma assures quickly, breathing still not quite regular, fingers tap-tapping on the concrete beneath him. "I just- I want... that."

He feels the red spreading across his skin like a warm shower but does his best to ignore it. Yuzuru is still looking at him inquisitively as if he's seeing a part of him he's never seen before. Shoma supposes it's fair. He's never been particularly open about the private side of things, though he would've appreciated it if Yuzuru toned his gaze down. The raw focus of it makes him want to hide.

Something changes in Yuzuru's eyes and he finally looks away.

"Why would you want me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Shoma mumbles, turning his face to the sea. "You said it helps you calm down. And I can trust you."

Yuzuru mutters something incomprehensible. When Shoma chances a peek, he looks as if he's debating the total value of his program, numbers flying around at maximum speed, adjusting over and over with every new variable. It would be comical to witness if Shoma's spine wasn't about to crack under the pressure at any second now. He lets his lids fall shut, allowing the arguments in his head to scream as loudly as they like for a moment. The world falls away and keeps standing on the rink side until something soft brushes along his jaw and startles a gasp out of him. His eyes snap open and as they do so, his lashes drag along Yuzuru's skin and then there are lips on his and that's that.

It's an odd feeling, still. He kissed people - and has been kissed - before, but the one thing that always surprises him is just how different everyone is. The shape of their lips, how soft or rough they are, how much they move and press, it's all distinctive to the person, it all makes them unique. Yuzuru kisses him so chastely it should barely count as a kiss, though the warmth that trickles over Shoma's skin begs to differ.

"Yeah, okay," Yuzuru says as he leans back, colour shining high on his cheeks, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Okay," Shoma whispers back. 

It's not as if Shoma doesn't know how this is supposed to work, but then again, does he? The technicalities are all in his brain, but no one can predict how an intimate situation is going to unfold. He hates being underprepared and that's exactly how he's feeling right now, Yuzuru's fingers trailing gently down his arm, tickling the soft inside of his elbow.

After entering, they stopped in the centre of Yuzuru's room, Yuzuru tugging him close, the fingers of one hand splayed on the small of his back, the other circled carefully around his wrist, and that's where they still are now. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, doesn't know whether he should push them towards the bed or let Yuzuru do it, doesn't know how much he's allowed to touch; he's never been in this situation before. 

The upside of it is, a small part of his brain quips as the rest of him shivers in Yuzuru's teasing hands, that he no longer has the time to contemplate the past day. His mind isn't silent, heavens no, it's filled to bursting with exclamation marks and cut-off thoughts, but at least it's not spinning itself in useless circles. The leftover adrenaline ups the ante on all his senses and he notices things he's never noticed before - that Yuzuru has a scar on the palm of his hand, that his clothes smell of something sweet, that there is a mole just under his right ear. They are all unnecessary details, but the general state of attention he's in highlights all of these things and a hundred more.

Yuzuru's hand slips under the back of his t-shirt, and Shoma's breath hitches. It's dry and warm and it makes the whole situation much more real.

"Are you okay?" Yuzuru asks. The focus in his eyes is disconcerting, and Shoma has to consciously remind himself not to look away.

"Yeah," he manages, fingers bundled in the side of Yuzuru's sweater.

Yuzuru frowns.

"You're shaking," he points out, stepping away to put two or three inches between them, palm sliding from Shoma's back to his arm. "You know you can just- say, if it's too much, right?"

Shoma knows, and he nods to relay that. He hasn't noticed the trembling, but now that he concentrates, he can feel it. It's not just an outside thing, though. Everything in him seems to be a little unsteady, lungs expanding in spasms, heart beating off rhythm, making the blood in his veins stutter. It's a crazily overwhelming and overwhelmingly crazy feeling.

"Sorry," he whispers, chin ducking low.

"Again with the unnecessary apologies," Yuzuru mutters, more to himself than Shoma. Then his hand falls down to grip Shoma's wrist and he tugs, leading him to the bed.

Yuzuru sits down on the edge of it, arms extended to him, and Shoma lets himself be pulled into his lap, knees on either side of him. Yuzuru's waist isn't that hard to encompass, skinny as he is, and Shoma worries for a second that he might actually crush the other. Then he remembers they are both skaters. There's very little they can't take.

This position puts him a few centimetres above Yuzuru's eye level, meaning that to kiss again, Yuzuru has to tilt his head up. When he does, eyes dark and shining, a spike of excitement whispers along Shoma's skin. Memories of earlier stumble out of the shadows, reminding him of all the things he wanted. He could do them now. He's still not sure if he's allowed to, but like this, he has the confidence to try his luck.

He pushes Yuzuru back, making him fall onto his elbows with a gasp, long torso and flat stomach on display the same way they are during the Ina Bauers, and Shoma can't help himself, trailing his fingers down Yuzuru sides to where the sweater rode up and reveals soft skin that almost shines in the semidarkness. He hears Yuzuru hum when he drags his nails over it, and it surprises him just how violently the muscles jump underneath his fingertips. He wants to grip at Yuzuru's waist, so he does. It's ridiculous, really, that even his small hands span so much of it. 

Yuzuru pushes his knees up. It makes Shoma overbalance and then his palms are braced over Yuzuru head, their groins pressed together, and Yuzuru is smirking at him as he pulls his hands up to reach for Shoma's. The movement stretches his body out, highlighting the already gorgeous lines, and Shoma allows himself to think, for a moment, that this is what Yuzuru would look like standing one step lower on the podium, gazing up, eyes still confident but also a little defiant, the column of his throat on display. Shoma ducks down to kiss him again, teeth closing on Yuzuru's lip. Yuzuru's fingers grip harder on Shoma's wrists, drawing a hiss from him, and he pulls out of the hold, tangling their fingers together instead and pressing Yuzuru's palms into the duvet.

Yuzuru lets out a breathy laugh.

"Wouldn't have expected you to be so forward," he teases, and it's like glass breaking. Shoma lets him go, pulling himself into a somewhat sitting position. The change in pressure makes his toes curl and forces a low groan out of Yuzuru, but he needs the breathing space.

Yuzuru stays exactly where he was, stretched over the snow-white blankets, arms framing the halo of dark hair. He's watching Shoma with that speculative, curious expression again, and Shoma wishes he had something to duck behind. He settles for dropping his eyes instead, arms hanging awkwardly by his sides now that he isn't touching Yuzuru.

"I didn't mean you should stop," Yuzuru says into the stillness of the room, and the reassurance is nice, but now that Shoma has snapped into himself again, it's hard to go back. He doesn't move an inch and after a few long seconds, skin whispers on the sheets as Yuzuru rises to meet him. He keeps his hands to himself, Shoma notices, and it makes his insides twists in both relief and discomfort.

"Talk to me," Yuzuru says, and that, Shoma thinks, is the most obvious sign that Yuzuru is, in fact, older than him. If he was in Yuzuru's position, he would probably quip a very quiet "Okay?", if that, but Yuzuru wants an explanation. Shoma's not sure how to give it.

"Don't-" he begins and immediately stops. From the corner of his eye, he sees Yuzuru's fingers twitch as if he would like to reach for Shoma but won't let himself. "Don't tease," he manages finally. It sounds so incredibly silly he turns his head to the side and consciously makes himself breathe through it.

"I've been teasing this whole time," Yuzuru says, and it sounds like he's frowning. He trails his fingertips over Shoma's forearm as if to demonstrate his point. Shoma shivers.

"No, I don't mind the- this. The touches," he clarifies. "Just don't- _tease_ tease."

" _Tease_ tease," Yuzuru repeats flatly.

"Yes," Shoma returns, a little frustrated. He's never been particularly good with words, but this is ridiculous. "Don't say- the commentary. The remarks on what we're doing."

"Why?" Yuzuru asks, and it's obvious from his expression that he's genuinely confused by the request. "You get a commentary for every single skate. And I'm sure people have told you before when something surprised them in bed-"

"No," Shoma interrupts, wrapping his fingers around his ankles. He just needs to hold onto something right now, plus the position makes him hunch over a bit, hiding him. "No, people haven't said anything to me before."

"I don't believe that," Yuzuru counters. "There are always hitches when you're with someone. There are always things to talk about. Anyone who has had sex- oh."

The silence hangs over them so heavily Shoma feels compelled to bow even lower. It's Yuzuru's hands on his shoulders that stop him. He can tell Yuzuru would appreciate it if he lifted his eyes up but he can't bring himself to do it. He wasn't planning on telling Yuzuru anything, he wanted to have this and then finally drop into bed and sleep. He's been tired but antsy for hours and this seemed like a good opportunity to put an end to it and enjoy seeing Yuzuru dishevelled at the same time.

Yuzuru's fingers grip his chin and turn it up so that he can kiss him. It feels almost as soft as that initial kiss on the beach, so, so careful, and so, so not what Shoma came for. He appreciates the effort, really. But he doesn't need it. The frustrated growl leaves his throat before he really thinks about it and he surges forward, turning the kiss into something harsher, quicker. Yuzuru is trying to slow him down, and Shoma doesn't care for that at all. The leftover embarrassment and bits of frustration bubble up and he pulls away.

"Stop that," Shoma snaps, jaw set. He's out of patience, not exactly with Yuzuru; mostly with himself. He wanted to see Yuzuru under him, and he got that. He wanted to get rid of all the tension, and now he can. Enough with the hesitation, enough with the self-consciousness, _enough_.

"Stop what?"

"Stop being all careful. You pulled me into your lap, you pushed me down over you, you let me hold your hands down, stop acting as if all of a sudden I'm too delicate."

The expression on Yuzuru's face is priceless. There's a moment of anticipation and then Yuzuru's hands are on Shoma's ass, dragging him closer, his teeth pressed into Shoma's neck, and Shoma moans out loud, fingers tangling in Yuzuru's hair. The sharp nips send heat rushing down his skin, replacing all the tension with excitement, and he presses his hips harder into Yuzuru's, laughing breathily when Yuzuru groans against his neck.

"Not delicate," Yuzuru says in rough tones as he pulls away, fingers slipping under Shoma's shirt to pull it over his head. "Not delicate," he repeats, running his nails down Shoma's sides, and Shoma feels the spikes of pain, the goosebumps racing along his skin, the shiver it sends up his spine, making the back of his neck prickle. Yuzuru's hands on his skin feel like heaven and hell combined and he wants more of it, more of both, so he pulls Yuzuru's sweater off and shuffles forward as much as he can without making Yuzuru move. Yuzuru's skin whispers dryly against his and he can't wait to see what it's going to be like once they get sweaty, once the air turns as hot as he feels now.

Yuzuru's hands tighten around his waist and then he's up in the air as Yuzuru turns, plopping him on his back. The jeans go down, the sweats, the underwear, and Shoma doesn't have time to feel self-conscious because he's too busy staring. He has seen himself in the mirror, seen other skaters, knows what body shape they all inevitably end up in, yet it's still surprising to see just how much thinner Yuzuru's waist it compared to his shoulders and ass, and it's more surprising still to see his dick hard against his stomach. Yuzuru always pushes himself so close to androgyny when he skates, can act so cute and touchy and innocent off the ice that Shoma almost forgot about this part of him. 

Seeing him like that makes him swallow harshly. Yuzuru smirks at that, turns in a circle with his arms spread wide, displaying himself to Shoma as if Shoma hasn't already picked him. Then he's crawling on the bed, laying himself over Shoma. The contact is amazing but Yuzuru is also made of heavy muscle and Shoma can feel his chest compress, forcing him to take short, quick breaths. It makes his head spin once Yuzuru puts his mouth back on his and it doesn't get better as Yuzuru trails butterfly soft kisses down his chest. The touch is so tender it feels like whispers and it sets Shoma's nerves on edge, hypersensitive to every brush, arching up to chase more of it. Yuzuru grips his hips and pushes down unceremoniously, holding him still.

Shoma gasps, once, twice, as Yuzuru closes his teeth over his hip bone. It's not harsh, not really, but compared to the gentle teasing, it's everything. His hips buck up and not even Yuzuru can stop him. A small whine escapes Shoma's lips when the tip of his cock brushes along Yuzuru's collarbone, leaving behind a wet smear. It looks obscene, the glistening of it, and Shoma would find it hard to look away from if Yuzuru's dark eyes weren't right next to it, staring at him in disapproval. 

Yuzuru pinches the skin on Shoma's thigh, and he yelps.

"Ow," he says as if his reaction wasn't expressive enough.

"Then let me work," Yuzuru retorts. Shoma huffs, but Yuzuru presses his mouth to his cock next, and he can work with that, he can so, so work with that.

He has never imagined what this particular thing would feel like. Blowjobs always seemed kind of vulgar, kind of gross, something that people surely couldn't do and enjoy in real life. Yuzuru seems to be enjoying himself, though. His fingertips are light at the base and his tongue is drawing tiny circles into Shoma's slit and the sensation is so much Shoma feels as if the breath has been punched out of him. His fingers scrabble around for something to hold until he finds Yuzuru's other hand and squeezes. Without hesitation, Yuzuru leads him to his hair and with a gulp, Shoma slides into the strands. It's only when Yuzuru starts to actually move that his grip tightens. The ensuing flick of tongue feels like a reward, so he keeps his hold as firm as he dares. 

When his thighs start to tense, Yuzuru pulls off, his hard breaths echoing in the room along with Shoma's disappointed whine. It makes Yuzuru giggle.

"Reach into the nightstand, would you?" he says, and the roughness of his voice sends shivers down Shoma's spine. He has heard Yuzuru sound like this before, but he has always waved it off as a cold or a bit of a sore throat. Now, he's re-evaluating all of those instances and wonders, did Yuzuru suck someone off that day, the night before? Was it Javier, or were there others? It's an impolite path to walk on but it's difficult to turn back once he starts.

"You like it," he points out, watching Yuzuru run the back of his hand over his mouth.

"Yeah," Yuzuru says, simple like one plus one. He gestures towards the bedside table.

"Why?" Shoma asks as he stretches over, pulling the drawer open. There is a Bible and a bottle of lube. He grabs the book and offers it to Yuzuru who gives him a thoroughly unimpressed look before he answers.

"I like the power of it. And I like making people squirm."

"I'd like to see you squirm."

"Fuck," Yuzuru mutters, his palm resting over his belly as if he's just been punched in the gut. "Give a guy a warning, would you."

 _Sorry_ , Shoma wants to say, but he's not a liar and he's not sorry. Instead, he passes Yuzuru the lube and watches him take it with shaky fingers. It takes a moment for Yuzuru to get his head back on track.

"I was going to open you up," Yuzuru says slowly, like he's developing an idea even as he's saying it. "But if you... do you want to do me instead?"

There something so inherently vulgar about the words, about the way Yuzuru says them, that Shoma has to close his eyes for a second and just breathe. He would love to have Yuzuru spread out on the bed, back arching. Yuzuru's thumb is drawing gentle circles on the inside of his wrist, and it would be thrilling to make him grip harder, make him dig his nails into Shoma's skin.

It would be equally thrilling to have Yuzuru do it to him, though.

"I don't know," he says honestly. Yuzuru is looking at him inquisitively, calculating.

"Has anyone ever fingered you before?" he asks bluntly, and Shoma is left blinking in shock for a few seconds before the meaning catches up on him and he blushes fiercely.

"No," he mumbles, almost defiant. 

Yuzuru's lips stretch into a smile.

"Let's try it then," he suggests, fingertips trailing across Shoma's stomach, down the sides of his thighs. "I like it. Could feel good for you too."

For a moment, Shoma wonders how many times Yuzuru's done this, how many times he's had someone in his bed, staring up at him. It's not like it matters, but he has always had a bit of a curious streak and being in this room, right now, is bringing out the nosiest parts of him. Yuzuru's palms stop midway up his thighs and when Shoma nods, Yuzuru pushes them apart.

It feels strange to have another person so close to the most private parts of him. Yuzuru settles in between his legs, perfectly comfortable, while Shoma's head reels from the waves of _too vulnerable, too open_. He has to remind himself that this is Yuzuru - a friend, a fellow skater, a fellow human being subject to those same feelings every now and then - but it's only when Yuzuru leaves a cheeky bite on his stomach that he relaxes a little.

He expects the first touch; he doesn't expect how wet it would be. 

"Gross," he mutters, nose scrunching. Yuzuru snorts, pushing the digit deeper. 

"Give it a chance."

Shoma hums and waits. He can't tell whether or not Yuzuru is doing a good job since he doesn't have anything to compare it with, but the results are rather vague. Yuzuru pushes in with a second finger after a while, the drag of it making Shoma squirm. Yuzuru is doing this odd circling thing as if he's looking for something and it doesn't hurt, but it also doesn't feel like much of anything. Shoma can't see the appeal. There are fingers in his butt, the stretch is lowkey annoying and the lube feels unnatural. He fidgets and as he does, Yuzuru's fingertips graze against something that makes his toes curl. 

"What the hell," he manages. It feels as if his lungs went into a spasm, the muscles in his stomach drawing tight. Yuzuru smiles in excitement.

"The joys of bottoming," he says, looking genuinely happy to have found the spot as he runs his fingers against it. Fire races up Shoma's skin. 

He hates it. The heat, the intensity, the shivers it sends along his nerves and the tension it creates in his belly, he hates all of it. The vulnerability of the position is still lurking in the back of his head and the decision is made and executed before Shoma can even think about it, hands reaching down to pull Yuzuru over him.

Yuzuru lets out a sort of a squeak as he quickly readjusts his body so that he doesn't crush Shoma. Not that Shoma would mind. The aftershocks are still slithering across his skin, making him shudder, and the kiss is a welcome distraction; Yuzuru's weight would be too.

"I really, really don't like that," Shoma mumbles into the kiss. He feels Yuzuru's hand tighten on his shoulder.

"You okay?" he asks. Shoma finds it endearing.

"Yeah. But I'd rather... not carry on with that."

"Fair." Yuzuru nips on his bottom lip, and the short burst of warmth it sends down Shoma's spine is nothing like the scorching heat from before. He likes this better. Hands sneaking around Yuzuru's waist, he pushes down, making Yuzuru sink to his elbows, their bodies flush from ribs down. He can feel a lingering apology in Yuzuru's touch. It's quite unnecessary, plus now that he knows he doesn't appreciate this side of the deal, his brain whispers, with Yuzuru's intonation, _let's try it then, I like it_ , and really, stronger men would've followed that calling.

"Does the offer still stand?" Shoma says into the kiss, his fingernails wandering along Yuzuru's spine, making him arch like a cat. Like this, Shoma can see his ass over his shoulder.

"Offer?" Yuzuru stills, butt up, along with both of his eyebrows. Even like this, he manages to look politely interested.

"Before, you said- that maybe I could-" It's difficult to get the sentence past his lips. He envies Yuzuru a little; he always knows what words fit best.

Yuzuru hums.

"The part where you said you want to see me squirm and I suggested you could put your hands to good use?"

Shoma blushes immediately. And nods.

Yuzuru grins at him, letting his knees slide out from beneath him. His hands fold over the tip of Shoma's dick, pressing it against his stomach as Yuzuru rests his chin on the top of it, eyes dark but twinkling in the way they always do when he's just done something he probably shouldn't have but has no regrets over. 

"Shall we do it, then?"

Shoma feels trapped, in a comfortable kind of way. Yuzuru's skin is slick and hot where it touches his thighs, and it seems as if he can feel Yuzuru's heartbeat through it, too. Yuzuru draws a deep breath and somehow, that pushes his palms down, pressing Shoma's dick down harder. Shoma's toes curl, a little bit in pain, a whole lot in pleasure. 

"Yeah," he breathes, shaking his head to get rid of the haze, and pulls himself up. It pushes Yuzuru off him, leaving him sitting on his heels between Shoma's legs, hands resting demurely in his lap. Shoma pauses for a second, just to appreciate the contrast between the obvious arousal and feigned innocence, before he urges Yuzuru up and away. As Yuzuru settles against the pillows, Shoma fishes the lube from beneath the twisted blankets. His hands are trembling again, he notices, though it's not just nerves this time. There's anticipation as well, and plain determination to get what he wants - and to give Yuzuru what he wants, too.

"Come up here?" Yuzuru says, breaking Shoma out of his thoughts. Leaving the bottle next to Yuzuru's ankle, Shoma shuffles close enough to rest his hand on Yuzuru's waist, leaning in to kiss him again, soft lips and sharp teeth. Yuzuru's fingers sneak up the side of his neck, tangling into his hair for a second before he slides it down to Shoma's chest, and Shoma wonders whether he can feel his heart beating out the crazy melody that reverberates through his head.

Shoma pulls away, breathing a little harder than he would've expected. Yuzuru still has a little smirk on his lips, though his chest is rising quickly, too, and it gives Shoma the kick he needed to grab the lube and settle between Yuzuru's legs.

"Hang on," Yuzuru says, straightening up. "Move down a bit, would you?"

Shoma obliges and watches as Yuzuru wiggles lower on the bed, getting into a more comfortable position. His upper body is a touch too high to be able to say he's lying down, propped just enough to see Shoma. He looks completely at home, even as Shoma sits between his thighs, running his fingernails up and down his skin. Goosebumps break over it, and the soft hums coming from him make Shoma smile, make him want more. He digs his fingers into the crease between hip and leg, and Yuzuru shudders, his dick twitching against his stomach. A spark of fire - power - dances along Shoma's skin.

This - this feels so much better than being in Yuzuru's place did. He slides his hands up Yuzuru's sides, down across his chest and stomach, teasing the tip of his dick. Seeing Yuzuru's muscles jump and tense feels like a reward, and so do all the little noises spilling out of him. It's not that Yuzuru isn't usually a well of twitters and giggles, but there seems to be something involuntary about all these, as if he doesn't even notice - or he simply doesn't care. His fingers clutch and release the bedsheet, cheek pushed into the pillow as Shoma explores.

Shoma pushes Yuzuru's thighs wider apart. Yuzuru sighs, body relaxing, as Shoma touches a careful finger against him.

"You really do like this," Shoma finds himself saying, pushing forward.

"Hmm," is all he gets in response. It's odd to feel Yuzuru clench for a split second and then go completely mellow, like any tension or stress just left his body with that one touch.

"More," Yuzuru mumbles, and when Shoma doesn't react, he pulls his leg up and digs his heel into Shoma's lower back. "Come on," he whines, and Shoma finds that odd too, because mere five minutes ago, Yuzuru was in pretty much complete control of the situation; now he's lying beneath Shoma, pouting, eyes big and shiny like that's going to convince Shoma to oblige.

Instead, Shoma grips Yuzuru's hips and pulls them up so that Yuzuru's ass is half resting on Shoma thighs. It puts his wrist in an awkward position as he pushes back in, but it's worth the look of surprise on Yuzuru's face, the gasp leaving his lips. Like this, Shoma can also appreciate the lines of Yuzuru's body again, see as sweat gathers in the hollows of his collar bones and precome drips on his lower belly. Shoma adds some lube, pushes in with the second finger. The slickness is still unpleasant on his skin but Yuzuru doesn't seem to care.

Actually, no, Yuzuru does care about added lube, Shoma corrects himself as he watches a tremble run through him, feels his thighs tense. 

"More," Yuzuru says again, though this time, it sounds more like a suggestion than anything else. Shoma chooses to decline.

"No," he says, curling the two fingers up and tugging, as if he could lift Yuzuru's hips up that way. However exactly that feels, it belongs to the good category; the moan leaving Yuzuru's lips settles heavily in Shoma's belly.

"Shoma," Yuzuru harrumphs, wiggling. Shoma presses upwards again and basks in the whine it gets him. 

"Stay put," he says, with way more confidence than he thought he had. Yuzuru stills, dark eyes shining feverishly as his dick twitches against his stomach, and it dawns on Shoma, after a second, that Yuzuru likes this; likes being denied.

He stops moving, lets his fingers just rest inside Yuzuru, too much too ignore, too little to enjoy. Yuzuru clenches on him, tenses, lets up, whines, tenses again, and Shoma's head is spinning with the sheer thrill of it. He didn't come out tonight in search of this specifically, but now that he has it, he doesn't want to let go. Yuzuru is hot and tight around him, and when Shoma presses the tips of his fingers to the side, he can feel Yuzuru's blood pounding through his veins. There are so many sensations that he forgets about his own arousal, the burn of it somehow distant, held behind a curtain. 

Yuzuru squirms again, manages to pull Shoma's fingers in deeper. Shoma lets him, for once, lets him brace his foot on the mattress and move his hips in tiny little circles until something changes and he gasps, presses his hips down again. Shoma can feel the difference and it hits him that this must be what Yuzuru got so excited about; this was what was supposed to feel good but didn't for Shoma.

For Yuzuru, it seems to feel fine and then some. He's warming up, Shoma can feel it in every point they're touching, blazing. His chest is rising and falling quickly, his breaths more like punched-out little hiccups that barely fit in between low moans and gasps. Shoma realises he hasn't taken a proper breath in a while, too, and inhales deeply. The room smells like clean post-practice sweat, Yuzuru's sweet shampoo and a touch like desperation. White spots dance in Shoma's vision and he breathes in again and again, until his head clears up. At some point, he decided to press a third finger into Yuzuru, though he has no idea when. He also doesn't know when Yuzuru started to mumble, "Come on, do it," but it makes his blood race even faster.

"Condom," he mutters, and Yuzuru's hand flies to the bedside table even as his other still grips the pillow like a lifeline. A second later, a plastic packet hits Shoma in the chest. He gets on his knees, hooking his arms under Yuzuru's legs as he pushes them back, and then he's pressing in. Yuzuru arches against him and if this isn't the nicest Shoma has ever seen him look, then he doesn't know what is. His muscles are quivering, wet spots on his belly shining, the dark flush on the top of his cheeks resembles rouge, and his eyes are closed, lashes fanning across his skin delicately. When Shoma's hips come flush with his, his lips open, though nothing comes out of them.

For a second, anyway. 

As Shoma draws back and pushes in again, a deep, content sigh escapes Yuzuru, one that makes Shoma preen. It's only now, when he's sure Yuzuru likes this, that he notices the tension in his own body, his straining muscles, the sensitivity of his skin, the currents of energy that spark along his nerves whenever Yuzuru's hips meet his. It's starting to feel overwhelming once again, and he leans forward to bring his lips to Yuzuru's throat, to his mouth. They're breathing too hard to kiss properly, but the proximity calms Shoma's mind down. Distantly, he realises he's forcing Yuzuru's legs really far back, far enough that he himself would have been uncomfortable. Yuzuru doesn't say anything, though, doesn't look anything but sweaty and unrestrained, and Shoma lets the matter go in favour of a position that allows him to move quicker, smoother.

He gets lost in it. Yuzuru keeps making these low sounds that echo through Shoma's body like a gong, a bit raspy, a lot breathy, and his arms are stretched above his head, fingers curled into the sheets, white-knuckled. Shoma must be moving just right because his hips lose rhythm, something Shoma thought Yuzuru wasn't capable of. A small _oh_ falls from his lips. 

Shoma slows down, balancing on one hand, and reaches for Yuzuru's dick. At the first touch, Yuzuru startles so bad he almost throws him off. For a moment, they're still, Shoma's hand hovering over Yuzuru's belly as they stare at each other. 

"Carefully," Yuzuru rasps out. Shoma nods, runs a cautious fingertip up the side, presses gently into the tip. Breath punches out of Yuzuru and he stifles a moan. Shoma starts moving again, slowly, circles his fingers around Yuzuru, enjoying the full-body shiver it elicits. 

It feels amazing to have Yuzuru under him like this, shaky, skin glowing with sweat and flush. Something in Shoma settles just looking at him, watching his breath hitch and stutter a little harder with every pass of his hand, with every movement of his hips. The thrill of it is an insistent itch in his stomach, a pressure that's almost peaking. 

"Sho," Yuzuru gasps before his back arches deeply, and he comes, clenching around Shoma hard enough to make him stop, worried he would hurt him. He lets his eyes wander over Yuzuru's features, his mouth open, shoulders melting into the sheets. It takes a minute for Yuzuru to open his eyes again. He smiles when he does, relaxed, but kind of impish again.

"Wouldn't have expected you to be like this," Yuzuru says, echoing the words from earlier that made Shoma so uncomfortable. This time, Shoma feels his lips stretch into a small smile, even though it is a little tense. Yuzuru tightens around him, on purpose, judging by his smirk, and Shoma gasps.

"Come here, would you?" 

Shoma pulls away with a shudder, throws the condom next to the bed before he crawls up. Yuzuru's palm slips to the back of his neck as he draws him down for a kiss. Shoma feels his other hand sliding down his side and to his dick. The grip is just a touch too firm, making pinpricks of pain echo in his bones, and it's just perfectly in sync with the way Yuzuru bites at his lip, digs his nails into Shoma's nape. The pressure fills his stomach to the last bit, and he holds his breath as it does, balancing precariously on the edge for one frozen second before the push gives and he comes, breath leaving him in a stutter. His head falls on Yuzuru's shoulder, and it's only Yuzuru's hand in his hair that keeps him from losing his grip on reality.

That's the only thing he's going to remember from this part of the evening, though he doesn't know that yet. Yuzuru running his fingers through the strands for what feels like an hour, both of their breathing calming down despite the air around them still burning hot.

"Let's shower, hm?" Yuzuru says after an indeterminable amount of time.

It takes Shoma about three seconds to process.

"Together?"

Yuzuru snorts.

"Yes, together. I saw you naked, you just fucked me," - Shoma would blush if he had the energy - "I don't think having a shower together is going to change much."

Shoma contemplates this for a moment. And then he decides Yuzuru is right. 

As they pad to the bathroom, legs somewhat shaky and eyes drooping, Shoma catches a glimpse of something sparkly in Yuzuru's open wardrobe; his Ballade costume. A memory of the medal ceremony flashes through his mind, looking up at Yuzuru as he shone in the spotlight. Shoma doesn't feel torn about that moment anymore. Yuzuru worked hard to get there. 

Shoma can work hard, too.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://www.larryhaylik.tumblr.com)
> 
> Please leave feedback? Anything concerning the characters, style, setting etc helps a bunch xx


End file.
